


Capes and Chest Plates

by hdarchive



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M, nightbird!blaine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-12
Updated: 2015-03-12
Packaged: 2018-03-17 12:24:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3529340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hdarchive/pseuds/hdarchive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He didn’t think his first friend at McKinley would be a superhero, didn’t think his first kiss would be with a boy wearing a cape. But when Kurt meets Nightbird, he meets Blaine too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Capes and Chest Plates

**Author's Note:**

> This is really silly and really pointless, but sometimes bad things happen and writing weird fluffy strangeness doesn’t fix anything but it helps

 

Too many books, too many books in one arm but somehow not enough, it’s calculus, geography, then chemistry and he doesn’t have enough time between classes to go back and exchange them because every minute not studying is, well, _a minute not studying_ and he can’t afford that right now, he just transferred last week -

“Hey new kid,” somebody says from in front of him, and for a brief second Kurt almost raises his head to see who it is, but he knows, and his red blood turns ice cold blue in his veins.

“H-hello,” Kurt stammers, pulling his textbooks tight to his chest, raising his chin only slightly to give them a quick glance.

Five of them. Letterman jackets like army uniforms. Five jocks and one of him and Kurt didn’t even have to look to know it wouldn’t be a fair fight.

“You’re looking a bit too clean for our liking,” one of them says, and they all raise out large cups. “A bit of red dye would really liven up your little outfit.”

Kurt takes a step backwards, hits the lockers and shuts his eyes tight, breathes out, “No - no thank you. I’m plenty bright - bright enough -”

They step closer, closer, until there’s only a foot of space between them and Kurt waits for the blow, the cold shock that’s about to consume him, his books, and is about to yell out _No please_ , words ready on his tongue, but in the blink of a second there’s a flash of something dark and glimmering.

Somebody stands between Kurt and the jocks, a cape sweeping behind him, and he yells, “Stop right there!” and holds out a hand.

Kurt’s arms are shaking as he holds himself close, fear dripping like acid down his spine. There’s a boy, black shining armour pieced over his body, and he stands tall, shoulders back and head raised, pulling his cape over one arm like a shield.

He isn’t sure what to process, or think, because there’s a boy with a cape standing right in front of him, but also because the jocks are staring at the two of them with shock wide in their eyes -

“Oh no,” one of them quivers, sarcastically. “What’s the little birdy going to do?”

The boy jolts forward, shaking his cape around, and he hisses darkly, “I may or may not have laser eye vision. I suggest you take a step backwards, I can feel it heating up.”

The jocks all look to one another, back to the boy, and somebody mumbles, “Oh, we’ll be back.” before they start to walk away.

Kurt takes careful steps around him, away from the lockers, and catches the boy’s eyes, glowering and burning at the jocks, and Kurt knows, logistically, that he can’t really have laser eye sight, really -

He thinks.

It’s once the hall clears out that the boy turns to face Kurt. His eyes are covered by a large, black mask, but his smile can’t be hidden, shining wide at Kurt.

All Kurt can say, or think is, “Thank - thank you.”

The boy shakes his head, cutting a hand through the air in disapproval. “No thanks needed, civilian. It’s my duty to honour and protect all outfits, especially one as fabulous as yours.”

Feeling his cheeks tinge pink, heat buzzing underneath his skin, Kurt mumbles, “Well, still I - I appreciate it. I hope they don’t come back.”

“It doesn’t matter if they do, because I, Nightbird, solemnly swear that I will be your lookout from now until forever,” the boy says, raising his hand back up and placing it over his heart.

Kurt snorts, laugh breaking free from the cage of his chest. “Nightbird?”

“The Nocturnal Avenger,” he adds on, nodding.

“Of - of course,” Kurt stammers. “And I’m just . . Kurt.”

“Here.” Nightbird smiles at him, easy and gentle, before reaching up and unclasping his cape, pulling it around his shoulders before bringing it up to Kurt. His eyes flash, a question of _May I?_ and Kurt nods, slowly, not understanding until Nightbird hangs it over him, tying it around his neck and smoothing it over his shoulders. “Waterproof and stain resistant.”

It falls to his ankles, silky and smooth over his skin, and Kurt holds up on arm and turns to his side, eyes scanning what he can of his body.

“Adds to the ensemble,” Nightbird says, eyes following the same path as Kurt’s.

Face still heated, Kurt manages to whisper, “This shade of black is a bit too midnight for my liking, but I can make it work.”

They meet each other’s gaze, and Nightbird’s smile should be creepy underneath a mask, but Kurt finds himself grinning at it, hiding it by staring down at his feet.

“May it keep you safe, Kurt. And I hope to see you again.”

Nightbird bows to him, bulky armour making it difficult, but Kurt curtsies back. He salutes him, grin still wide, before turning around and taking off into a run.

-

The cape swoops behind him, the sound of it swishing around his feet natural by now. Backpack heavy over both shoulders, pile of books in one arm, Kurt marches through the parking lot, looking behind him as he walks just in case he’s being followed.

He transferred to escape just this - the constant torment that follows him like a ghost, never knowing when it’s going to pop out and scare him. But with this cape wrapped around him, Kurt finds he’s been able to lift his chin a little higher, walk with more ease in each footstep.

It’s when he gets closer to his car that he’s startled, jerking back slightly because he wasn’t expecting anyone to be there.

Nightbird rests against the door, propped up on one foot, arms folded and head tipped low.

Kurt takes a cautious step forward, fingers curling tight around the cover of his books, and calls out, “Nightbird?”

He jolts from his position, jumping into a stand, blinking at Kurt like Kurt just shook him awake from a dream. “Sorry, I was resting.”

A calm washes over him, soothing his twisted tight gut, and Kurt breathes, drops his shoulders and closes the space between them. “Is it exhausting saving the school from slushies all day?”

“Oh, that’s not all I do, Kurt,” Nightbird says, and shakes his head, mouth twitching into a grin. “Rescuing kittens from trees, preventing budging in the lunch line, making sure all library books are returned by their due dates . . . It’s a hard life, but somebody has to do it.”

Kurt rocks forward onto his toes, not even realizing as he bites over his lip, smile trying to radiate him from the inside out, and he says, quietly, “Then I am very fortunate that you came to my rescue today.”

“I would rescue you any day, Kurt.”

What he can see of Nightbird’s face erupts into a glow, and his smile is hard to look away from, and Kurt thinks maybe his insides are melting, definitely melting, or burning or shining or -

“But I realized I need my cape back. It’s cold out and - well, it makes me look cool.”

The breeze of the cape suddenly feels like steel over his bones, and Kurt feels shame flood his stomach, quickly fumbling to drop his books on the hood of his car so he can reach up and work at the knot. “Oh - I’m - I’m sorry. I hardly even realized I was still wearing it.”

Nightbird’s gloved fingers brush Kurt’s as he takes the cape from him, circling it back around, clicking it into his chest plate as he mumbles, “That’s because I only use the most lightweight materials. I could possibly look into making one for you . . .”

Kurt laughs, laughs even though without the cape he suddenly feels bare, laughs because his insides have definitely melted and turned his blood into goo and he _only has_ the strength to laugh now -

“So, does Nightbird go by any other identities?” he asks, words slipping through his mouth before running through his mind.

“He does,” Nightbird says, glancing up only once as he adjusts his cape. “But I can’t disclose that information with you until I’m positive my trust is secure.”

“And how do I prove that?”

“It’s simply, really. You see, Nightbird has an available spot in his very busy, very hectic schedule for this friday.” Nightbird drops his stance, arms sliding behind his back, hands clinging together as he sways side to side for one second. “If you - if maybe you’d like to - join him for coffee or - or something.”

Kurt has to steal himself for a moment, breathe and blink and breathe again because - because this guy is wearing a cape and a chest plate and his grin itself could save the day but he’s wearing a _cape and a chest plate_ -

“Kurt would be - I mean I, _I_ would be delighted,” he says, breathless, feeling his lungs tiptoe on the verge of bursting into pieces.

Nightbird’s grin evolves, which Kurt wasn’t sure was possible because it’s already so bright.

“Then Nightbird will be seeing you,” he says, just as breathless as Kurt, voice a whisper hidden beneath the sway of his cape. “Away into the night, I fade . . .” Kurt’s about to laugh, about to smack his hand over his face and sigh because _what_ did he agree to but Nightbird steps forward again, swiping his hand through the air and shaking his head, and says quickly, “The catch phrase is a work in progress, alright?”

-

Kurt sits in the corner of the Lima Bean, waiting at the table Nightbird had requested, hidden from view. He’s reviewing the notes he took this morning in class, not letting doubt thread through his mind, because Nightbird is going to show, he’s just late, he wouldn’t stand Kurt up after saving him, after walking him to his car every day after school this week, he wouldn’t -

The doors open, bell jingling, and Kurt doesn’t look up until he hears the telltale swoop of the cape, rustling along his footsteps. He smiles as Nightbird takes mindful steps towards the table, looking in each direction before finally approaching Kurt.

Grinning, breath stolen right out of his lungs, Kurt says, “Busy night saving the city?”

Nightbird stands before him, hands fiddling together, eyes stuck to the ground. “No, yeah - I was - I was working up the courage to come.”

“Oh.” Kurt drops his pen, sits back in his seat and balances his gaze, switching from Nightbird to the table. “Oh. Do I - do I scare you?”

“Me? No, never,” Nightbird scoffs, shaking his head, and he pulls out the seat across from Kurt. “But you could be an evil villain, plotting against me by using my heart to bring me down.”

Kurt’s laugh shakes out, high and tight at the back of his throat, and he focuses his attention on running a finger over his textbook, and not on how Nightbird’s boot has settled next to his. “You can trust me.”

“I know,” Nightbird sighs, hanging his head. “I’m just - nervous.”

His spine feels like broken concrete, too heavy to move or lift, but he forces his head up and tries to meet Nightbird’s eyes, and asks, “”Nervous?”

“Nervous for you to see -” Nightbird takes his hands off the table, reaching behind his head, slowly untwisting the tie to his mask. Kurt sits with his heart frozen in his chest, lungs not cooperating, eyes wide on his as he slides it over and off his face. “I’m - I’m Blaine.”

Kurt can only stare.

Because he knew there was a reason he said yes, and it must be the way that his heart feels like it’s trying to jumpstart, accelerating, stopping and starting before _going_ -

Pretending to pout when all he wants to do is beam is difficult. But Kurt curls his bottom lip out, crosses his arms and huffs, “I thought I was on a date with Nightbird.”

Blaine - _Blaine_ \- fumbles, hands trembling, and the mask falls from his grasp before he quickly snaps to catch it, pulling it back around his eyes, all the while mumbling, “I know - I’m stupid I’m an idiot I shouldn’t have -”

Kurt reacts instantly, stomach and heart sinking, and he reaches across the table and touches Blaine’s hand, taps it, before fully settling his hand over the back of Blaine’s.

“No, no, I’m kidding,” he rushes out, pout disappearing and smile fitting genuine to his lips. “I really - I really like Blaine.”

Blaine takes a deep breath, lowering his hand until it hits the table, Kurt’s resting over top of it. “Blaine really likes you. And Blaine -” he cuts himself off, takes another breath before finishing, “I realize I need to stop addressing myself in the third person. But, um, nervous. Yeah.”

Kurt curls his fingers, feels the material of Blaine’s glove in his hold, and meets his eyes, noticing they’re not brown like he thought they were, but so much more.

“Well, don’t be nervous. You’re still the same person who saved me from all those slushies, right?” he asks.

“That I am.” Blaine nods, turning his hand over so his palm is pressing against Kurt’s.

“Then I am still thankful.” He looks at their hands, glances up at Blaine and finds that he’s staring at their hands too. “And thank you for trusting me with your real identity.”

“You’re certainly welcome, Kurt,” Blaine says, smiles, and raises himself back against his seat. “Remember, I’d rescue you any day.”

-

He needs to study for geography while he studies for chemistry, because his geography test is right after, so Kurt balances the textbooks on top of each other, swinging his bag over one shoulder and slamming his locker shut with his elbow, about to start walking down the hall when somebody appears at his side.

“Howdy, Kurt,” Blaine says, elbow brushing against his.

Kurt jerks, caught off guard, textbooks awkward in his hold, backpack slipping off his shoulder, and Kurt barely manages to say before remembering last second, “Hi, Bla- hi, Nightbird.”

Nightbird, because the mask is black over his eyes, smiles, eyes casting down to Kurt’s textbooks. “You appear to be struggling. May I help?”

“You may,” Kurt sighs, breath coming out easier as he hands over his books.

“Geography and chemistry?” Nightbird asks, whistles, and gives Kurt a curious glance. “You know, geography is Nightbird’s favourite class. He’d be happy to go over it with you if you have any questions.”

“Does Nightbird have time?” Kurt asks, teasingly. “I’ve heard the number of kittens stuck in trees has increased over the past week.”

Nightbird stops dead in his tracks, eyes wide from behind the mask, and he frantically pats over his pockets, mutters, “That’s strange, my Nightphone hasn’t gone off all day -”

Kurt reaches out, touches his elbow and draws his attention back up, laughs and says, “I’m kidding again, Nightbird. I’d love your help - if you - if you have time.”

Nightbird’s panic washes away, mouth twitching into a grin. “For you, Kurt, anything.”

Too much joy to contain, sparkling in his veins, Kurt tilts his head back and smiles at the ceiling, jabs Nightbird with his elbow as he mumbles, “You’re too kind, but I don’t want any kittens to suffer.”

They take slow, drawn out steps until they reach the door to Kurt’s classroom, Blaine carefully handing his books over. His eyes don’t raise, he stares down at the floor as he thinks, then says, slowly, “Maybe, um, maybe Blaine could help you instead.”

Noticing the pause between words, Kurt says, “I look forward to it.”

He scans the hall, empty of footsteps and empty of people, and dares a chance, leaning forward to peck a kiss to Nightbird’s cheek.

-

So he lied. Of course he lied. He’s good at geography, he doesn’t need help.

He’s trying to figure out what he’s going to tell Blaine, but the doorbell rings, a loud chime singing through his head. Kurt bounds down the stairs, hand trailing over the rail, heart thudding madly, but it drops when he sees that his dad has already beaten him to it, walking towards the door and opening it.

Kurt waits at the bottom of the stairs, clinging tight to the banister, watching as his dad’s already stoic face falls, and he stammers, “Uh, hello . . .”

Somebody says, quiet and hopeful, “Is Kurt here?” and Kurt perks up, spine straightening and smile filtering in.

His dad nods, slowly, taking a hesitant step backwards, then looks to Kurt and raises an eyebrow. “Kurt, somebody’s here for you.”

Kurt hops across the floor, scooting his dad away before leaning against the door, peering around it and smiling at -

Nightbird.

Not Blaine.

Mask tied tightly in place, cape draped perfectly around him, and Kurt breathes out, “Oh. Nightbird.”

“ _Nightbird?_ ” his dad squawks from behind him.

“Greetings, civilian,” Nightbird says, stepping forward and holding out his gloved hand. “I’m Nightbird.”

Cautiously, _hysterically_ , his dad says, “Kurt . . .”

“Dad,” Kurt pipes in, taking Nightbird’s outstretched hand and pulling him closer. “He’s a friend from school, here to help me with geography.”

He takes off for the stairs, yanking Nightbird behind him, and his dad calls out, “I thought you were good at geography!”

Feeling Nightbird’s gloved hand tucked safely in his, Kurt calls back, “Everyone could use a little help now and then.”

Nightbird’s got the cape drawn tightly around him, glimmering as he moves, with his arms folded over his chest as he slowly walks into Kurt’s room.

“So what happened to Blaine?” Kurt asks, taking a seat at his desk, raising one leg over the other.

Nightbird has his back facing him, head lowered, and his voice is quiet as he says, “He was - afraid.”

“Nightbird isn’t afraid?”

“Nightbird isn’t afraid of anything.”

Kurt hums, stands up again and moves towards Nightbird, taking his hand and guiding him over to the bed. “I’m afraid too. Of a lot of things. But Nightbird made me realize that maybe I don’t have to be. Maybe . . Blaine could too?”

Quiet, quiet and torn and breaking, he whispers, “I’m not as brave as Nightbird.”

Kurt studies Nightbird’s glove, the length of his arm, the armour he wears over his chest, looking somehow different now, different than before, when Blaine took his mask off.

So he says, face heating up and blood rushing dark red, “I have a confession. I’m good at geography. I don’t need help. I just - I just wanted to see you.”

Nightbird turns his head, smiles weakly at Kurt, curls his fingers around his and says, laughing, “I’m terrible at geography. I just wanted to see you too.”

With the words out there, his limbs feel weightless, but he still manages to lift a hand, touch the edge of Nightbird’s mask. “Maybe I should repay you then, for giving up your night to be here with me.”

Nightbird’s mouth drops, cheeks red, and he babbles, “I don’t usually accept gifts for my work. Unless it’s like - a coupon for soft pretzels or something -”

Kurt drops his hand, resettles on the bed so he’s on his knees, and faces him. “Then this isn’t a thank you, it’s just something that I’d like to do.”

Even with the mask on, Kurt can see underneath it, can see the way Nightbird’s eyes crinkle up with his smile, the way they shine and flash and flicker away from Kurt’s before being drawn back.

Nightbird leans forward, his hand settling over his waist as Kurt moves in, but he pauses, and against Kurt’s lips he says, “I should warn you. One of my many super powers is being an amazing kisser.”

Tightening his hand around Nightbird’s cape, Kurt pulls him forward and says back, “I trust you.”

Before he knows it the world is being tipped over, Nightbird’s hand so careful as he leans Kurt back onto the bed. He never thought his first kiss would be with a boy wearing a cape, or that he’d be masked while he did it, really, and maybe he has had fantasies about Batman but never like this and  -

Never like this -

His hands don’t know what to do, grabbing a handful of cape, letting it spill over him, cloaking him in its midnight darkness, and all he can see is Blaine overtop of him, so he runs a hand over his cheek, along his jaw, the edges of his mask.

Pulling apart, just barely, Kurt says, rubbing his thumb over the mask, “See? Nothing to be afraid of.”

A quick kiss to Kurt’s lips, Nightbird grins, mumbles, “Unless of course you’ve been fooling me this entire time, and while we’ve been kissing your minions have been planting bombs around the city -”

Kurt’s nose scrunches up, laugh bright, and he kisses him back. “Then you’ll just have to see.”

Nightbird is staring at him, smiling before he leans back in. “I don’t even care.”

-

After that, he doesn’t see Nightbird - or Blaine - for quite some time.

Kurt doesn’t worry, because he knows he’s out there - somewhere.

It’s when he texts Nightbird’s cell phone, _have you gone incognito on a super secret mission?_ and doesn’t get a response that he starts to worry.

And it’s when he’s piling his textbooks high that all his worries come true. The books are smacked out of his arms, clattering to the ground, but the sound only a pin drop compared to the hooting and hollering of the jocks surrounding him.

Kurt bristles with rage, spiking electric in his nerves. He’s so tired of this, so tired, he’s done with running -

“You can’t do that!” he yells, bending down to pick the books back up, tilting his chin to glare at the guy in front of him. “This might take a few hours for your microscopic brains to process, but I’m a human being too and you _can’t do that -_ ”

“Aww,” one of them cooes, and Kurt’s mouth twists into a snarl, glare burning hot at them. “Your little birdy isn’t flying in to save you?”

Kurt stands up, raises his shoulders back and holds his books close. “He doesn’t need to. Leave me alone.”

“And now you’re speaking out?” somebody shouts, and the jocks exchange looks that settle wrong in Kurt’s stomach, but Nightbird made a promise, Nightbird is brave, so he will be too. “Good thing we came prepared.”

They hold out their cups, and purple - _grape_ \- they would choose grape on the day he wears white, of course -

Kurt keeps his gaze leveled with theirs, and says, “Fine. Do what you want. Nightbird will come, and then you better run.”

And the last words he hears before the world is splashed purple; “I don’t see any Nightbird.”

The ice cold seeping through his clothes, against his skin, is the slap of the reminder.

Nightbird never shoved.

Nightbird never saved him.

-

The worst has happened, he shouldn’t be scared anymore. He’s been waiting for it, lowering his head and walking quicker whenever he passed somebody in a letterman’s jacket, waiting for it because he’s been threatened with it, but then there was Nightbird and he was so foolish to think a boy in a cape could actually help him escape it -

Kurt looks over both shoulders before venturing into the parking lot, looking once more when he’s halfway to his car, taking slower steps as he approaches it, just in case somebody’s waiting to surprise him.

His favourite scarf has ice chunks in it, and Kurt shakes it out as he stands by his car, feeling rage burst like fireworks, because it’s his favourite scarf and if Nightbird was just there -

“Kurt, hi.”

A dark figure pops up next to him, and Kurt jolts back, shock setting off the alarms in his mind, and he lets out a harsh breath, fear replacing oxygen in his lungs.

“Don’t scare me like that,” Kurt bites, narrowing his eyes at Nightbird as he continues to shake off his scarf.

Nightbird’s smile vanishes, and his eyes widen as he takes in all of Kurt, expression falling as he says, “Kurt - oh my god, what happened?”

Kurt snaps, “What does it look like? I got slushied.”

“I’m - I’m so sorry.” Nightbird picks up the edge of his cape, eyes flickering off Kurt, off the mess that’s soaking into his clothes, before he offers it to him. “I’m sorry, let me -”

“It’s fine, I should have expected it,” Kurt says, batting Nightbird’s hand away, locking his arms over his chest.

“Let me help you clean up.”

Kurt shakes his head, ignores how his eyes are burning with the need to cry, and turns for the door. “I’m just going to go home.”

Nightbird’s hand rests over his shoulder, and it takes Kurt a long second before he shakes it off. “Kurt - wait -”

Wait. He waited. He waited like an idiot actually believing -

“Why?” Kurt spits, whipping back around and letting the shield of his eyes break. “Why should I wait for you? I was - I was stupid to believe you’d be there.”

Nightbird says, immediately, “I should have been.”

“You said you’d always rescue me -”

“ _I promise_.”

He wonders why this hurts more, why this is more humiliating. Slushied in a crowded hall, laughed at by people who hate him, and breaking in front of Nightbird is a million times worse, it hurts, it _hurts_.

“Then why haven’t you been responding? I’ve been looking for you all week.” He wipes at his eye, sniffles and leans his head back, breathes deep before mumbling, “It’s surprisingly hard to track you down in this school. I don’t - I don’t understand.”

He doesn’t meet Nightbird’s eyes, but he can feel them, burning right through him.

Nightbird takes careful, calculated breathes before he says, a whisper, “Because I’m scared, Kurt.”

Everything Kurt is drops, head too heavy to hold up, and he looks at Nightbird, but doesn’t say anything.

“Because - if I - if I take off this mask, I’m not Nightbird anymore. I’m better as Nightbird, I’m just not afraid anymore.”

Kurt licks over his lips, finds that his mouth and throat have gone dry. “You don’t have to be scared of me, remember?”

“But what if you don’t really like Blaine as much as you like Nightbird?”

Wet scarf in one hand, sticky-purple shirt clinging to his chest, Kurt lets out a grim chuckle and shakes his head, mutters, “I don’t like Nightbird that much now, anyway.”

“I’m sorry,” Nightbird says again, and it’s strange to see him, cape and gloves and mask, with his shoulders hunched and his face wiped clean of joy. To see a hero picked apart. “I fail the people who need me the most. Maybe I’m not meant to be a superhero.”

Kurt hums, taps his fingers over his car, and thinks. Because he’s met Blaine, and really, the only difference was a mask.

“It was Blaine who decided to put the mask on in the first place, right?” Kurt asks, eyes on his own hand, not Nightbird.

Not following, Nightbird says, “That’s correct.”

“Then you’re still Blaine now.”

“It’s not the same -”

Kurt looks up, looks at him, smiles weakly and says, “It is to me.”

-

Slushies get everywhere. His textbook pages are purple, his notes are a mess, and Kurt is close to a breakdown, laying down on his bed trying to sort through them, when his phone starts to vibrate.

Heart gaining speed after seeing the name _Nightbird_ flash across his screen, he says into the speaker, “Hello, Kurt speaking.”

“Good evening, civilian,” Nightbird says back. “This is Nightbird calling, to do a formal check on the possibility of there being a kitten in your tree.”

Kurt laughs, relief filling his chest, and he gets up from the bed and walks to the window, peeking outside. “I can formally say that no, there is no kitten in my tree.”

“Darn it,” Nightbird curses. “I flew all this way for nothing.”

Still smiling, Kurt says, thinking, “But I do have some overdue library books that could be taken care of . .”

“Say no more. I’m on my way.”

It’s a little under a minute before the doorbell is ringing, and Kurt hurries out into the hallway, hoping nobody heard it, hoping Finn isn’t in the living room to answer it before he can, and runs to the door.

There stands Blaine. Blaine, no mask, eyes free as his smile, but his cape still hangs over him, like clouds cloaking the sky.

“Hi,” Kurt breathes, eyes roaming over Blaine, starting at his feet and trailing up.

“Hello,” he says back, head tilting to the side. “There was a mention of overdue library books . . ?”

“Yes, yeah, right up in my room.”

Blaine takes a step forward but stops, gives a quick look around. “Um, any signs of evil fathers?”

Kurt laughs, says, “Not tonight.”

“Well, terrific,” Blaine sighs, and follows Kurt inside. “Not that Blaine - not that I’m scared of him anyways.”

In Kurt’s room again and Kurt tries to see the difference between Blaine and Nightbird, and he has to ask, just in case, “So are you - are you Blaine or -”

Blaine shrugs, looking around the room before settling on Kurt. “It’s like you said, Kurt. I’m the same.”

“The same?”

Blaine sits next to Kurt on the bed, chest expanding and lips pursing, reaching for his hand.

But when Kurt gives it to him, Blaine shakes it, and says, “I’m Blaine Anderson.”

“Hi . . .” Kurt trails off, shaking his hand back.

“I like to help people. I was too afraid to do anything before, because people never listened to me, not until I joined a superhero club and came up with the name Nightbird. But I’m still Blaine. I forgot, for a little while there, but I’m still Blaine. And I know I let you down, but now - now I can’t, I won’t, because now, with you, I’m Blaine, and I’m Nightbird too.”

Kurt closes his hand around Blaine’s, and realizes then that he slipped his glove off beforehand.

“I’m a very lucky civilian then, aren’t I?” Kurt asks, a bit dazed, wondering, because if this is what it feels like to shake his hand without the glove, to see his eyes without a mask, then what would it be like to kiss him now -

Blaine leans closer and nudges his shoulder off Kurt’s. “Why is that?”

Kurt smiles, nudges back and says, “Because I like both.”


End file.
